


love four you

by ohvictor



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Universe, Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Polyamory, implied depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 18:53:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19340527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohvictor/pseuds/ohvictor
Summary: Yamato, Gaku, Mitsuki, and Nagi manage to schedule a date night. Yamato has a hard time getting into it.





	love four you

**Author's Note:**

> i've had this wip sitting mostly finished for months and decided to push it out for the last few hours of pythag day. thank you so much to [ciel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ednae/) for beta reading this for me!!! it says in the tags, but yamato exhibits some depression symptoms here, including a difficulty in finding things enjoyable, so please be careful if that might be a triggering or upsetting read for you.

Gaku arrives while Mitsu and Nagi are out buying groceries for date night. Yamato’s sprawled on the living room couch when there’s a knock on the door of IDOLiSH7’s dorm, and he drags himself up to answer the door.

“You owe me a kiss for making me get up,” he tells Gaku, shutting and locking the door behind him.

“You literally invited me over,” Gaku protests, but he leans in and pecks Yamato on the lips anyway. Satisfied, Yamato returns to the couch, where he’s nursing a beer (with Mitsu’s permission!) while lying across the cushions, which is _really_ great for his reflux. Gaku sets the bags of takeout he’s carrying on the floor and lifts Yamato’s feet so he can sit down, and then allows Yamato to put his feet in his lap.

“Gross, Gaku’s into feet,” Yamato deadpans, wiggling his feet around.

“You could just move them,” Gaku says, and then squints at Yamato. Now that Yamato’s said dumb things twice in a row, he probably deserves the scrutiny, but he hides behind his beer can anyway. “You upset about something?” Gaku asks, with the experience of having dated Yamato (et al) for three months and the wisdom to not put up with his bullshit at face value. Yamato (at face value, anyway) _hates_ this.

“Nagi and Mitsu left me at home,” he whines, which might as well be the real reason he’s being a brat. Who knows?

Gaku accepts it, nodding. “Well, someone had to be home to let me in, right? Don’t tell me you’d rather leave your comfy couch and brave the cold instead.”

This is a fair point. It’s also a pain that Gaku’s been around long enough that he knows just what to say to appease Yamato’s moods. Yamato shrugs one shoulder and takes a sip of beer, which Gaku correctly interprets as a concession, his lips quirking up in a proud smile before he changes track.

“Or maybe,” and Gaku glances quickly at the door, “you’re being extra bratty because you want someone to do something about it.”

Yamato sucks in a breath, also instinctively looking at the door. If Mitsu comes back and finds them violating the rule against dirty talking before date night officially starts, they’ll both be in trouble. “Maybe. Do _you_ want to ‘do something about it’, Gaku?”

“I wonder,” Gaku says.

Yamato pouts. “Mitsu’s got you whipped, huh.”

“I saw _you_ look at the door too,” Gaku points out.

“You’re the worst.” Yamato wriggles deeper into the couch, holding his beer can against his chest. Gaku watches him with an inscrutable expression, and then awkwardly pats his shins.

The lock on the front door turns with a click, and Yamato and Gaku both perk up in their seats as the door opens, spilling Mitsu and Nagi and a gust of freezing winter air into the room. Mitsu and Nagi have snow in their hair and on their coats, and as they stand, shivering, on the doormat, Nagi shifts his grocery bags into one hand so he can smooth the snowflakes from Mitsu’s hair with the other.

“Hey, you’re not covered in snow,” Yamato says to Gaku, who’s rudely shifting Yamato’s feet aside so he can get up.

“I drove here,” Gaku says. “Did you two go to the place two blocks away?” he asks Nagi and Mitsu, approaching them with his arms held out for a hug.

“Yes!” Nagi tips forward into Gaku’s arms, nestling against Gaku’s #1 Most Desired chest. “Mitsuki said they would have everything we needed...”

“Let me guess,” Yamato starts.

“They didn’t,” Mitsu grouses, “but we made do. You can handle trashy alcohol, right, old man?”

“You would get me shitty booze on date night?” Yamato says, mock-offended.

“Yeah,” Mitsu says, offering Nagi his shopping bags.

Nagi wriggles out of Gaku’s arms and heads to the kitchen to deposit all the bags, giving Mitsu an opening which he happily fills, burying his face in Gaku’s chest. Gaku tilts his head down and kisses the top of Mitsu’s head, prompting Mitsu to lift his head and stretch up until he can kiss Gaku on the lips.

Leaving them to it, Yamato rolls himself off the couch and follows Nagi into the kitchen, where he occupies himself trying to brush snow off Nagi’s hair and shoulders as Nagi wanders around the kitchen putting things away.

“You’re like a little snow fairy,” Nagi smiles, turning around once his hands are free to slip his arms around Yamato’s waist. Yamato wriggles, then relents, leaning up to kiss a snowflake off Nagi’s cheek.

“Ah,” Nagi breathes, chasing Yamato’s mouth as he pulls away.

“Nagi,” comes Mitsu’s voice, and Yamato pulls away to see the other two have joined them in the kitchen doorway. “Do you have the _things_?”

“Uh-oh,” Gaku says, as Nagi reveals one more shopping bag, wrapped over and over around its contents so as to obscure their shape.

“We found something _exciting_ at the store,” Nagi says, waggling his eyebrows. “Take a look, Gaku...”

As Gaku leans closer, Nagi starts to unwrap the bag from around the object it conceals. Eventually the plastic falls away, revealing a small box emblazoned with Gaku’s face.

“What is...” Gaku walks closer, taking Nagi’s hand so he can hold the box up to the light. Yamato leans closer as well, and reads the label on the box aloud to the rest of the kitchen.

“ _Want to look just like this_ most desirable _man, and_ TRIGGER _admiration from that special someone? Our Yaotome Gaku face masks will make you look_ Heavenly...”

The words sink in slowly, and then Gaku tips his head back with a low groan. Yamato doubles over laughing.

“I can’t believe this stupid thing exists,” Gaku says. Yamato wheezes at his side. “Stop it, Yamato!”

“Oh, we basically did the same thing when we saw it at the store,” Mitsu assures Gaku, his own face quivering as he struggles not to join Yamato in laughing at Gaku’s scandalized expression.

“It’s just—” Yamato straightens up, taking a strangled breath. “I’ve _seen_ your skincare routine, it’s not that great...”

Gaku turns on Yamato, sending him into a fresh fit of giggles. “My skincare is just fine!”

“There are five face masks in there,” Mitsu says gleefully, raising his voice to be heard over Yamato’s laughter. “One for each of us, and one extra.”

“Come on, Mitsuki, you’re not really going to make us do these,” Gaku says.

Mitsu’s eyes practically shine. “Not before dinner, I won’t. You brought food, right, Yamamura-san?”

“Don’t call me that. Yamamura-san is my grandpa,” Gaku sighs. “Yeah, I left it by the couch.”

With Gaku heading out of the kitchen to grab the takeout, Mitsu turns to Yamato and Nagi, pointing at each of them in turn. “Yamato-san, grab napkins for us. Nagi, can you pour drinks?”

Like an orchestra bowing to the commands of its conductor, and with minimal grumbling to boot, Yamato and Nagi each move in the direction of their assigned tasks. Yamato can’t help thwacking Nagi’s ass with his stack of napkins, though, and Mitsu graciously overlooks this deviation. Playing his role as the resident minor, Nagi pours himself soda; Mitsu, squinting at the Yamato’s already flushed cheeks, makes him settle for only a half-filled cup.

Gaku returns a minute later with the bags of food, and unloads them onto the table. At this point he’s memorized his boyfriends’ orders; there’ve been enough soba dates that he would have even if he hadn’t been serving IDOLiSH7’s dorm for months prior. Nagi and Yamato fill in the table settings with cups and napkins, and Mitsu helps Gaku dump out packets of sauce and disposable chopsticks from the bags.

Once everything is set out, they start sitting down to eat, but Yamato remembers his beer in the living room and darts back out to get it. By the time he returns to the table, everyone else is already digging in, and he slides into his seat and quietly starts eating too.

He finds the dinner conversation difficult to focus on. There’s a lot of noise; his partners are always loud and talkative, and especially so now that Mitsu’s in his element, chatting over food. Nagi’s stealing bites from everyone else’s takeout containers, and Mitsu’s complaining good-naturedly about his busy week, and Gaku’s just excited to hear about IDOLiSH7’s activities, which provides Nagi and Mitsu a natural audience to retell various jokes from the past week. It’s all old news for Yamato, and he drinks the rest of his beer faster than he meant to, which only makes the fog in his brain worse.

He gets up under the guise of grabbing more sauce and instead refills his beer cup, and then chugs it standing in the kitchen so Mitsu won’t notice, which makes his stomach feel weird and the hollow feeling in his chest grow bigger. When he returns to the table, the topic has changed completely to some event Trigger is doing next week, and everyone else is done eating. Yamato picks at the remaining half of his soba, and doesn’t even notice Gaku eyeing it until a pair of chopsticks find their way into his view. Yamato slides the container towards Gaku, waving his hands to fend off any protests.

It’s a relief when Mitsu stands up and starts clearing off the table. This, at least, is something Yamato knows what to do with; Mitsu always starts clearing the table after dinner in the IDOLiSH7 dorm, even when he’s the one who cooked.

“You don’t have to do that, Mitsu,” Yamato says, hauling himself out of his chair. Gaku follows his lead and starts grabbing things as well. Nagi, ever the spoiled prince, nudges his empty plate toward Mitsu with a yawn he doesn’t bother stifling.

“It’s habit at this point,” Mitsu sighs, “because none of you would put the dishes away if I didn’t start it. _Nagi_ , get up and help!”

He swats Nagi’s back. Nagi twists around and manages to kiss Mitsu’s cheek before Mitsu’s out of reach, and then grabs his empty cup and follows Mitsu back to the kitchen.

Through teamwork, and stern looks from Mitsu, the table gets cleared, and Gaku offers to help Mitsu clean up before Yamato can, which leaves Yamato and Nagi to lay on the couch and wait. Yamato’s stomach still feels queasy, and he wilts gratefully into the couch cushions. Nagi squirms onto the remaining inches of couch space, and then gives up on sitting and just drapes himself over Yamato’s legs and torso, putting his big handsome face right in Yamato’s and frowning.

“Nagi, you’re too heavy for this,” Yamato huffs, shoving at Nagi’s shoulders.

“I’m not!” Nagi dodges Yamato’s attempts and inches closer. “Yamato, are you all right?”

“What’s this,” Yamato complains, although it’s worrying that Nagi picked up on his mood. Was he really so obviously checked out during dinner...? When he thinks about it, though, he probably didn’t say more than two words the entire time.

“Is something wrong?”

Yamato shoves lightly at Nagi’s shoulder. “Can’t a guy get some peace around here?”

“No,” Nagi says matter-of-factly. “Is there anything we can do?”

That would be a great question if Yamato understood his feelings even a little bit. He shrugs one shoulder. “I dunno. It’s already nice being with everyone.”

“That’s true,” Nagi nods. “We are an exquisite group.”

He leans up and kisses Yamato carefully. This, actually, _is_ something Yamato understands, and he kisses back with a quiet noise. Nagi accepts this, and tilts his head to one side and lets Yamato deepen the kiss, opening his mouth as Yamato’s breath quickens and sliding his tongue over Yamato’s. Yamato loses track of time, only registering how warm the room is getting and how badly he wants this, any of this... When Nagi breaks the kiss, Yamato chases his lips, but then Nagi is climbing off him and licking his lips, and Yamato blinks a few times and realizes Mitsu and Gaku are back in the room.

“We got bored,” Nagi announces.

“I see that.” Mitsu’s playing at unaffected, but the faint flush in his cheeks gives him away. “Still up for face masks?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Yamato rolls off the couch and lands as steadily as possible on his feet. “Don’t feel too left out, Mitsu.”

“I _promise_ I don’t,” Mitsu says. Yamato walks closer and knocks his forehead against Mitsu’s temple, and Mitsu hands him the box with the face masks, adding, “We can kiss more...later, if you want.”

Yamato huffs. “I’m fine.”

“He’s been like that since I got here,” Gaku says.

“Shut up,” Yamato grouses. “I’m going to go do your themed face mask right now.”

“Ugh.” Gaku follows Yamato down the hall to the dorm bathroom, hurrying to keep up, and manages to stick his hands in Yamato’s back pockets. Yamato does _not_ yelp, but it’s a near thing.

He makes it into the bathroom and sees his face in the mirror. As the others pile in behind him, Yamato steps up to the counter and takes a closer look. He’s flushed (reasonable, given what he and Nagi were doing), but his skin looks pale under it, and his eyes look red. How is it possible that he looks unwell—that even now he feels hollow and dull—when he’s surrounded by his partners, three people he loves and would do just about anything for? What’s _wrong_ with him?

“Yamato-san,” Mitsu says, bumping Yamato’s shoulder with his own. Yamato startles, and offers him the box with the face masks. Mitsu looks like he’s going to say something else, but then he looks up at Yamato again and takes the box, turning it so he can read the directions off the back.

“It doesn’t say anything about having to wash our faces,” he says, “so we can just get started.” He opens the box and hands out packages to each of the others. Nagi starts tearing his open immediately; Gaku examines the packaging front and back with obvious distaste.

“Is it a sheet mask or a cream?” he asks Nagi.

“Cream!” Nagi squeezes probably half the packet into his palm and starts applying it, leaning close to the mirror to get a better view, so close that his belly presses into the counter.

Gaku sighs and opens his package as well, and Mitsu and Yamato follow suit. Silence falls in the bathroom as the four of them apply the cream to their faces, until one by one they step back from the mirror and toss out the packaging. Mitsu is the last to finish, and he turns around his packet to read the back. “Says to wait ten minutes and then wash off.”

“I can’t wait to look _just_ like Japan’s most desired man,” Yamato says.

“Shut up,” Gaku tells him. Then he seems to remember something. “Guess we can’t kiss like this, huh?” he adds, bumping his hip against Yamato’s.

“There’s more to life than kissing,” Yamato says.

“Wow, that’s such a wild thing for _you_ to say,” Mitsu laughs, which is really unfair. He’s setting a timer on his phone, and then slides his phone back into his pocket. “What’s a game we can play for ten minutes?”

“A game that’s _not_ teasing me,” Yamato adds.

“Come on, Yamato, you like being teased,” Nagi hums, winking suggestively.

Mitsu shakes his head, making an X with his arms. “Not while we have cream all over our faces!”

“You’re right, Mitsu, the cream usually comes after.”

Mitsu whacks Yamato’s arm. “Shut up!”

“I want to sit down,” Nagi says, and starts walking back towards the living room. Gaku shrugs at Yamato and Mitsu and heads off after Nagi, and the other two follow suit. Once in the living room, they flop on the couch, going to great lengths not to touch their sticky faces on anything.

“My face itches,” Nagi says mournfully.

Gaku reaches across the couch and ruffles Nagi’s hair. “Well, don’t scratch it. You’ll get cream on your hands.”

Mitsu snorts. “That reminds me of a story Momo-san told me—”

“I don’t want to hear this,” Yamato interrupts him.

“Get your mind out of the gutter!” Mitsu smacks his arm. “It was about shaving! Apparently one time Yuki-san got too sleepy while shaving his face, and came back into Momo-san’s with this awful white beard. Momo-san said it was like Yuki-san got replaced by the ghost of Santa.”

The image of Yuki with a fluffy white beard makes Gaku and Nagi laugh really hard, but Yamato doesn’t think it’s all that funny.

“That old man,” Gaku wheezes. “Ryuu told me a story like that once.”

Mitsu groans. “Why does Tsunashi-san have a story like that!”

“He stayed over at Momo-san’s once—like, ages ago—and he said in the middle of the night he got up to go to the bathroom and saw Yuki-san wandering around in the middle of an all-nighter, and he thought Yuki-san was a ghost.”

Nagi laughs loudly, and Mitsu slaps Gaku’s arm. “Horrible! Yuki-san does look like a ghost, though...”

“Yuki-san’s definitely creepy enough,” Yamato grumbles.

“Aw, Yamato-san,” Mitsu says, and all three of them are looking at Yamato now.

Yamato’s stomach twists, and he says the first thing that comes to mind.

“There was a time when I picked Mitsu up from Momo-san’s house, and he and Tsunashi-san were really drunk.”

“Yamato-san!!”

“Mitsu remembers,” Yamato adds. “So he must not have been that drunk.”

“Shut up,” Mitsu says.

He doesn’t make any move to stop Yamato from continuing the story, though, so Yamato barrels onward. “They were all wearing those Mitsu-themed outfits we got for Mitsu’s birthday last year, except they really didn’t fit Tsunashi-san that well. And Yuki-san came out of the house and asked if I wanted one.”

Nagi’s laughing at the image, covering his mouth with one hand. “You already have one!”

“Yeah, that’s what I said. And then I drove Mitsu home.”

“I wonder if Ryuu still has the clothes,” Gaku says.

“What, you want some?” Mitsu laughs. “You can just borrow Yamato-san’s.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll take a cute photo just for you, Mitsuki.”

Mitsu laughs, fanning his face exaggeratedly. “So romantic, Yaotome-san~”

Now the conversation is back on track despite Yamato’s clumsy efforts. He wonders if Mitsu’s MC ability activated a little to push the conversation along, but that’s a counterproductive thought. Gaku and Mitsu are making eyes at each other, and Nagi’s scrunching up his face, as if trying to rid himself of the itchiness without touching it.

“We never took any cute pics in our Mitsu outfits,” Yamato says.

“You took group pictures,” Gaku reminds him. “With your whole unit.”

“You saw those?”

“Aw, were you jealous?” Mitsu prods his arm.

“Maybe.”

“We can have our own Mitsuki birthday party,” Nagi says. “I will get my Mitsuki boxers out for the occasion.”

“I think I lost mine,” Yamato deadpans.

Mitsu huffs. “I saw them in your dresser last week!”

“I want a pair,” Gaku insists.

“Just the boxers?” Yamato grins, and finds that cracking a smile is a little easier now. “Yaotome’s forward~”

“Well, if that’s what Mitsuki wants—”

The time on Mitsu’s phone goes off, startling them out of their laughter. They all get to their feet and head back to the bathroom, Gaku now describing his plans for his Mitsu boxers solo photoshoot, and Nagi nearly trips over his feet laughing. His face is flushed, probably from the laughter, but Mitsu, holding the door for the rest of them, stops him, standing on tiptoe to get a better look. “Nagi, you’re _really_ red.”

“Hm?” Nagi puts a hand to his face, and yells when he touches the cream. “Oh no!! I have to wash my hands...” He hurries to the bathroom counter and yanks at one of the faucets, turning it on full force and cleaning off his hand.

“Now that you mention it,” Gaku says, leaning in to look closer at Nagi, “you _are_ pretty flushed. You’re not sick, are you?”

“I don’t _think_ so,” Nagi frowns. He peers closer at his own face in the mirror. “My face feels very warm...” He touches his cheek, swiping away some of the face mask to get a look at the color of his skin without the cream, now mostly translucent, in the way.

Mitsu yells. “Nagi! Are you allergic to the face mask?”

“I don’t know!”

“Wash it off already!”

Nagi ducks his head over the sink and frantically splashes water on his cheeks, using his hands to rub off the rest of the cream. As soon as he lifts his head again, it’s clear: his face is red everywhere the cream touched, the line where the cream stopped at the edges of his face in stark contrast with his pale skin.

“Oh, no,” he says mournfully.

Gaku leans into Nagi’s face and pokes at his skin. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry...”

“The most desirable man’s face mask turned my face into a...” Nagi struggles to find an appropriate word. “A tomato!!” He slaps Gaku’s hand away and grabs a towel from the counter, and puts it over his face. “Don’t look at me! I’ve been ruined!”

“I’m so sorry,” Gaku says again, his hands hovering uselessly next to Nagi’s shoulders. “I didn’t think that you’d have a reaction to the face mask. Do you, uh... Do you think it’ll fade?”

“Oh my god,” Mitsu says, and starts laughing. Yamato can’t help but laugh too once Mitsu starts, and once he’s going, he can’t stop. Mitsu sags against the counter with the force of his laughter, and Yamato leans against him, clutching his stomach. Every time he starts to calm down, he looks up and catches sight of Nagi with the towel held resolutely over his face, and starts laughing all over again.

“I can’t believe you two,” Gaku says. “This is no laughing matter. Nagi might be scarred forever.”

“No! Don’t say that!” Nagi pulls the towel down from his face so he can whap Gaku’s arm with it. “My face is my greatest asset! Oh! You thought you could take down the competition...” He looks sadly in the mirror. “Perhaps you were right. I’ll never leave the house again... I’m sorry, IDOLiSH6...”

This line gets both Mitsu and Yamato to calm down. “Hey, hey, that’s enough,” Mitsu gasps. He pats Nagi on the back, swallowing another fit of laughter so he can speak. “Your face will be fine by morning. Probably—probably sooner. Stop being a baby.”

“You wouldn’t understand, Mitsuki,” Nagi pouts.

“Well, probably not.” Mitsu shrugs and turns on the faucet of the sink nearest him. “Anyway, the rest of us have to wash our faces too, you know.”

They take turns to clean off. Mitsu and Yamato grab the rest of the towels for their own use, and Nagi refuses to relinquish his face cover, leaving Gaku to stand there pathetically with his face dripping onto the counter.

“Nagi,” he starts.

“Do not try me, Yaotome Gaku,” Nagi warns, clutching his towel tighter.

Mitsu sighs, lowering his own towel. “Come here, Gaku.” When Gaku steps closer, Mitsu reaches up and wipes his face dry, Gaku bending down awkwardly to let him.

Without waiting for them to finish, Nagi trudges out of the bathroom, making Mitsu rush through drying the rest of Gaku’s face, leaving him with one fat water droplet on his nose that Gaku wipes off on the back of his hand. Mitsu nudges Gaku after Nagi and goes to hang up his towel to dry as Gaku leaves the bathroom. Yamato hangs up his towel next to Mitsu’s and shuts off the bathroom light as they leave.

Walking at the rear, watching Gaku hover behind Nagi and trying not to laugh, Yamato finally feels like himself. If the price of feeling like he takes up space here was Nagi having an allergic reaction to the face mask, then so be it (and Nagi doesn’t have to know, anyway). Yamato just wants a nice night in with his partners, and he hasn’t laughed that hard all week.

As Gaku follows Nagi back to the couch, Mitsu grabs Yamato’s hand and holds him back in the hallway.

“It was good to see you laughing like that, old man.” He beams up at Yamato, his eyes sparkling. Yamato wonders if his heart might stop, having an expression like that turned on him. He’s in love with all of his partners, for sure, but he’s always been particularly weak to Mitsu... Maybe that’s why Mitsu laughing just moments before got him to laugh harder than he had expected to.

But if Mitsu’s commenting on Yamato laughing, that means Mitsu might’ve noticed that Yamato wasn’t feeling so great earlier, which means Yamato’s worried all _three_ of his partners. He wants to reassure Mitsu, or deflect, but what comes out of his mouth is, “Eh...?”

Mitsu laughs, his head tipping to one side. “Idiot, I have eyes,” he says, and leans up to kiss Yamato. Once their lips touch, Yamato doesn’t want to pull away, but he lets Mitsu step back, and follows him into the living room, where Gaku and Nagi are waiting.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you also to my partner who had an allergic reaction to a face mask we did and then said i could write a fic about it LOL. the mitsu outfits are a reference to mitsu's birthday photobook rabichats, specifically [the fifth one](https://osakaso5.tumblr.com/post/166571246168/mitsuki-izumi-birthday-photobook-rabbit-chat-part). catch me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/futarinoshoutai)!


End file.
